


No shirt, no shoes, full service

by justlikesomuch



Series: Poolside [2]
Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: F/M, Feet, M/M, Masturbation, Mostly Vietreau, feet are the whole point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 14:38:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15731463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikesomuch/pseuds/justlikesomuch
Summary: Jon has a thing for Tommy's feet, and Emily's going to make him admit it.





	No shirt, no shoes, full service

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nervousbakedown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervousbakedown/gifts).



> Never say never. I wrote this for [Elise](https://aspiringhooligan.tumblr.com/) as a form of barter. Elise holds down the Tommy's feet beat all by herself, and this is me appreciating her. Thank you [wokeupscully](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wokeupscully/pseuds/wokeupscully) for making it better.
> 
> \---
> 
> This story exists in the same backyard as [Sort of exclusive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14336841), but each story is a standalone as well.
> 
> \---
> 
> Of course, this is super made-up and not for public consumption. Please be cool and don't show/reference outside of the fandom.

He was aiming his foot at Jon's knee, Emily thinks, but it slips right along the inside of his tanned thigh, slick with a light sheen sunscreen of sunscreen and sweat, and makes soft contact right between his legs. Tommy laughs and pulls his foot back instantly, apologizing for that little moment of weirdness. 

"Don't apologize," says Emily. "Jon loves your feet."

"WHAT? Emily!" Jon fixes her with an incredulous look, a silent communication of _shutupshutupshutup_ that Emily chooses to ignore. 

"My feet?" Tommy stretches his legs out on his lounge chair to examine them, splaying his toes. Emily watches Jon take this in intently. "What's so special about my feet?"

"Nothing!" Emily pauses to bat at a late-summer mosquito. "They're totally ordinary feet. But Jon's obsessed with them, for some reason."

"What are you talking about?" Jon's tone is hardly convincing.

"Sweetie, I have heard you say at least three separate times," she holds up a hand to silence his attempt at protest, "that Tommy has, and I quote, 'the perfect feet.'"

"That's just a general observation!" Jon is studiously avoiding looking at Tommy.

"Was it a general observation when you told me he has 'sock model feet,' whatever that means?” Emily feels a little tug of sympathy for her husband, but she’s more interested in what will happen if she keeps pushing this.

Tommy raises his eyebrows at Emily. "Is this a thing?"

“It’s not a thing,” Jon says weakly.

“It’s totally a thing,” Emily tells Tommy.

“Em, stop it. Stop making me sound weird.” He looks at her pleadingly.

“Uh, just out of curiosity, babe” says Emily in a casual tone,” What’s the background on your phone right now?”

Jon glares at her. “It’s a picture of the dogs playing!” He’s got that prissy tone he adopts when he’s really embarrassed. “It has nothing to do with Tommy’s feet.”

Emily rolls her eyes and puts her hand out. “Let me see.”

He unlocks it and hands it to Emily, who holds it up to show an image of Lucca and Leo rolling on the beach. And right there, unmistakable in a corner of the frame, are Tommy’s feet in flip-flops.

Jon buries his face in his hands.

Emily stands up and stretches. She sits down on the edge of Tommy’s chair and plops one of his ordinary feet into her lap.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, sweetheart,” she leans over and pats Jon’s knee. “Tommy’s into it it. Right, Tommy?

Tommy flushes red. “I don’t, I don’t know,” he stammers.

Emily shoots him a scolding look, the one that he loves, the one that always means she gets her way. “Tommy. Tell him.”

Tommy sighs. “Okay,” he says to his lap, “Okay, I’m into it.”

Jon’s still too mortified to respond. “I am not conceding anything,” he says into his hands.

Emily sighs and looks at Tommy. “What do you think, Tommy? Should we make him admit it?”

Tommy smirks. “Oh, definitely.” He stretches his feet in Emily’s lap and presses his toes against her belly. “I think he might need some kind of . . . demonstration?”

Emily smiles. “So Jon, you’re totally indifferent to Tommy’s feet? You just have like, an academic interest in their sock model potential.” Jon is silent, but now he’s watching her carefully.

“So Tommy, if he has such casual feelings about your feet, it probably won’t make much difference if I do . . . this.” She lifts Tommy’s foot to her mouth and kisses along his arch. His feet are pool-fresh and a little pruney. Tommy jerks his leg back automatically at the ticklish sensation, but she grips his ankle firmly to hold him in place, digging her nails slightly into the soft skin there, still red with the impression of his sock.

She looks at Jon, who is watching them with with dumb awe, his lips slightly parted.

“What about this?” Maintaining eye contact with Jon, she sucks two of Tommy’s toes into her mouth and runs her tongue between them. At this, both Jon and Tommy moan, and she starts laughing. She drops Tommy’s foot triumphantly.

“See! I knew it. Don’t deny it, Jon. Now it’s your turn.”

Jon looks at Tommy, questioning, and Tommy gives a slight nod. Emily loves when they do this—communicating worlds through a few facial expressions.

Jon huffs out a breath and scoots his chair closer to Tommy. Hands shaking slightly, he takes Tommy’s foot in hand and tentatively massages the sole. Tommy tips his head back and shuts his eyes. Jon keeps rubbing Tommy’s feet, first one and then the other, resting them in his lap. Emily notices how he’s shifting in his deck chair. She can see how hard he is already; his swimsuit leaves nothing to the imagination. She meets his eyes and nods to his lap.

He looks at Tommy. “Can I?” he motions. Tommy blushes and nods furiously. Jon yanks down his trunks and pulls his dick out. 

Tommy sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of Jon stroking himself. He quickly follows his lead, reaching to free his dick and get a hand on himself. His eyes are wide and locked on Jon’s face.

Emily watches with delight as Jon lifts Tommy’s foot to his mouth, exhaling with pleasure and relief. He runs his tongue tentatively along the tips of Tommy’s toes. Emboldened by Tommy’s enthusiastic response, he sucks nearly all of Tommy’s toes into his mouth at once, groaning around the fullness. He begins to stroke himself harder, holding Tommy’s gaze.They watch each other intently, mirroring each other’s strokes.

Emily bites her lip hard. Jon’s lips are stretched obscenely around the end of Tommy’s foot. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is; it should be weird, but it’s incredible. Emily cups herself, pushing her clit against the heel of her hand. She slides her fingers into her bikini bottoms, reaching for that perfect spot just off to the side. She leans back, legs spread, and begins to build a rhythm of teasing strokes.

Tommy’s feet are in Jon’s lap again. Emily tosses him the sunscreen and raises her eyebrows. He slicks himself and smears the excess onto Tommy’s feet. He rubs himself with one hand, his other hand gripping Tommy’s foot. Occasionally his dick slips along Tommy’s feet, and they both groan.

Emily wants to close her eyes and let go, but she can’t pull herself away from the scene in front of her. Tommy is stretched out on his lounge chair, big hand gripping his big dick, his other hand gripping the armrest. He’s watching Jon’s face with hungry intensity, biting his lip. His legs are stretched out to Jon, who watches him right back as he moves his hand over his dick, thumb brushing the head, increasingly messy and chaotic.

Jon’s getting close, Emily can tell. Emily’s close, too. She squeezes her eyes shut as she moves her hand faster. She plays a slideshow in her mind, flipping through images of Tommy and Jon both remembered and imagined—Tommy fucking in her that very chair while Jon watches, Jon pinning Tommy against the fridge and kissing him on a Sunday morning, Tommy running his hands through Jon’s freshly-cut hair. Emily on her knees, taking turns sucking them.

That does it. She arches her hips and comes, riding the pulses, stilling her fingers as she’s flushed with sensation. She rides it out and rests back against her chair, warm and happy in the sunshine, watching the beautiful men in front of her.

Jon comes with a moan, spilling over Tommy’s feet. He slumps forward, flushed with sweat, chest heaving. He runs his fingers idly over the soles of Tommy’s feet, rubbing his come into Tommy’s skin.

Tommy swears and runs his hand through his wavy hair. His other hand picks up speed on his dick. He’s looking at Jon like he could eat him.

Emily feels like she could go again, but she needs something more. When Jon’s breathing has evened out a bit, she puts a hand on his shoulder. “Go take care of Tommy, baby. Go get in his lap for me.’

She leans back and watches Jon set down Tommy’s feet with reverence, He scoots into Tommy’s lap and takes his dick in hand, resting his face in Tommy’s neck.

“Fuck, Jon, I can’t believe you, I can’t—“ And then Tommy is coming, too, leaning into Jon and rubbing his back in big soft circles.

Emily tightens and slows her strokes as another climax thrums through her. She can’t take her eyes off them. She is filled with joy and contentment as as she watches them resting in an embrace. Life is good. She will let them recover for a while before she asks them fix her lunch.


End file.
